I Don't Like Blondes
by Strine
Summary: this is a story using Fable 2, okies? short little story i worte while bored, sorry for Reavers OOCness. ReaverxSparrow. Rated T for swearing mostly.
1. Chapter 1

**Inspired when I was watching my friend play Fable 2 for the first time…**

**(I own nothing!)**

BLOODSTONE

Reaver

I groaned at the sight of bloodstains on my expensive carpet, nothing would get it out. It had happened when the last so-called 'artist' came and tried to capture my glorious likeness. None have so far, you'd think it would be easy, to find a capable artist after all my years alive. No. Hard to find a good woman too, sure there are ones who look good and can give you fair ride, but none who have challenged me, none came close to my glory and if I dwelt on the subject, I felt a little defiled. Still I had a visit to look forward to, adventurer by the name of Sparrow. Huh, hardly been around, I don't see how they could have earned all this 'fame'. They're still a-nobody anyway you look at it. When they come knocking at _my_ door, they'll have to prove themselves worthy of my presence first…

Sparrow

Reaver huh? More like bloody pain in the arse. That man is the reason I've had to travel through a damned swamp (_if the legends are true he __created__ the accursed thing as well!_), fight waves of rotting hollow-men AND fight a stinking troll. Not to mention travelling with _her_. The blonde bimbo I've had to pull out of every sticky situation imaginable including pulling her out of quicksand! I don't even know how I got stuck with her in the first place! wait, I do. I found the stupid bitch sitting on the outskirts of Wraithmarsh, showing leg and chest to get some poor hapless fellow to drag her to Bloodstone, all in the name of a good shag! Why she wanted to get to Bloodstone is beyond me, but once the air head decided to shut up the Samaritan in me _had_ to go and open her big fat mouth and offer her safe passage through the swamp. I'm gonna kill those monks, them and their damn values, but I suppose its better than following some loopy cultists who sit in the dark all day. Slicing through the last hollow-man I looked around, Blondie was some distance away fixing her hair. Great. She can just enjoy some pampering while I fight to keep hordes of animated corpses from ripping her conceited head from her whorish body.

"*huff huff* why do you need…*huff huff* to go to Bloodstone anyway?" might as well ask I suppose

"Oh? Well, there's a man there, whose body is said to be the stuff of legends" I grimaced at the freakishly high voice, grating on my nerves. A man eh? Why did I not see it coming? Hannah? Garth? _Theresa!?_ Why did no one stop me!!

"…and when I get my hands on his-"

"Enough! It doesn't bear thinking about" I saw the evil grin on her face as we walked through the gates to Rookridge. She enjoyed anything of a sexual, perverted nature (much to my disgust) and enjoyed watching me wince at the sound of anything so vile. She thought it was my lack of experience (I do have experience thankyou, Little-Miss-Fuckbunny) and sneered at the thought.

"Do you know this _heavenly_ mans name? If you don't than just give me 50 gold for the passage"

"Of course I do silly, his name is Reaver" my jaw dropped, it then clenched as white hot pain seared from my abdomen

"Oh come on…" I gritted through clenched teeth as a saw the hollow-man scythe sticking though my stomach. I whirled and kicked its legs, which crumbled beneath it, retaliating it stabbed me in the shoulder and I cried out.

"Son of a bitch!" I yelled as I tore its head from rotting shoulders. Grapping at my stomach I tried to free the scythe, no good, all my efforts did were cause me to lose more blood. The world was beginning to swirl, piercing screams echoing through my thoughts, _biggest house…Reaver…must find_, a red fog clouded my vision and as I stumbled past the Tattoo shop I felt people stare. Sometimes I loathed being a hero, I would survive this, I knew that much but why did I have to go through so much bloody _pain_. Dimly aware of a gold gate I stumbled on, using **anything** that was stronger than me for support, a few of the kinder prostitutes helped me a few steps before returning to their claimed spot. There was a door, gilded, I fell to my knees _god-damn not even the Crucible was this hard_ and with a last bout of strength, hauled by bleeding frame up the stairs. I scratched at the door like a common house cat but soon I couldn't find the strength to hold up my own head. Blondie knelt beside me screaming, the least she could do was be helpful but she needed help with even that.

"Knock…*rasp*…I-idiot" I slumped to the ground, darkness consuming me.


	2. Chapter 2

"_Oh god, not more blood"_ was my first thought as I opened the door. A very attractive, tear stained blonde was on my doorstep, next to her was what appeared to be a very fresh corpse.

"Please, you have to help me, my friend is hurt badly"

"I can see that, but I'm afraid she's finished"

"No! She spoke to me a few moments ago, just help me please!" I smirked at this girls acting, she must have hired this, I peered closer, the person was curiously dressed; bandit shirt, ranger pants and explorer boots. Well whoever they were they were obviously hired to be this girl's protector, useless if dead.

"Fine, but there is a price" I looked suggestively at the girls corset and thin jacket; her gaze grew equally lecherous as she studied me, the incarnation of perfection. I called to my servants to tend to the wounded mercenary (I assumed that's what they were) as I made my way upstairs with the pretty maiden.

Sparrow

I woke up to soft sheets and a strange room, to my annoyance there were also some VERY unwanted sounds emanating from the next room. Groaning and screaming, with a rhythmic thumping on the wall, I automatically reached for my sword, realising it was not on my person I groped around till I found it. Master long sword, two augments, this beauty cost me a fortune but was well worth my trouble. Angrily I stabbed at the wall with all my might and punched the sword right through. The sounds stopped and I sighed as I leaned back into bed, reaching for my crossbow I smiled and counted to three in my head _1…2…3_ Bang! The door flew open. Thunk! Thunk! I sent two crossbows flying into the doorframe without so much as opening my eyes. When I did I saw a very annoyed man standing in the doorway.

"May I help you?" I enquired, my voice thick with fake sweetness

"Yes actually" he strode over to the bed, he wore no shirt and I could see his trousers were hastily pulled on, a gilded pistol on his hip. "If you wouldn't mind, this house was expensive and I don't need holes in the walls or crossbows in the doors"

"Oh I'm sorry, did I interrupt anything?" sarcasm is a beautiful thing. He leaned over me, a hand either side of my neck, he gave me a look that said _I could kill you now but then I'd be wasting my valuable time_. The smell sweat and other bodily fluids came off his body.

"Why yes, you did and now you're wasting my valuable time. So if you don't mind…" he strode away from me "no more holes in the walls, there's a good girl" he closed the door and as fast as lightning I but several bullet holes through the wood, his gilded pistol winking in the light.

Approximately 1 week later

Of course he'd been mad at me; I stole his pistol and used it to put seven holes through his door. But he'd been very gentlemanly about it and we both agreed to try and keep out of each others way, but somehow we'd always bump into one another and slowly built up a rather strange relationship. Built mostly on the uncanny ability to piss each other off, we both respected each other and often shared a private joke or two in the few moments he could spend away from Aria, the bimbo. In those moments I saw what he could have been and, slowly, unnoticeably I grew fond of him. It only hit me that afternoon when The Bitch came and lured him into her lap that I felt a pang of jealousy; I couldn't even have a few moments with him, could I?! The servants told me today that my wounds had healed sufficiently for some light practice. Strolling out into the courtyard I took out my long sword and took a fighting stance. I went through each thrust and parry slowly, remembering which muscles moved when and I kept the flourishes to a minimum speed. I gradually sped up, but dared not go any faster or harder than necessary, time moved quickly now that I was occupied; concentrating on the dummy in front of me I relived my previous fights with bandits and balvarines, ankle biters and hobbes, adjusting my style to each imaginary foe. Sword work had always been my strongpoint, unlike ranged weapons or will powers, it came naturally. So absorbed was I that I failed to notice the sound of the door opening and jumped when I felt another blade gently parry mine.

"Your swordsmanship is quite beautiful, of course its nothing compared to mine"

"Oh yes? You always told me that your strength was guns _old man_" he hated that name

"En Guard!" we traded light blows in mock battle, one fact becoming clearer with every thrust and block. I was better than him, much better. After two hours of duelling he finally conceded defeat.

"My dear, where did you learn to fight like that?"

"It's a natural thing, inherited or something" I replied, cleaning my blade "unfortunately I'm not as gifted in the gun department, unlike yourself"

"I have a proposition for you Sparrow"

"Yes Reaver?"

"If you show me how to wield a blade with as much grace as you do, I'll teach you how to become a master markswoman"

"Deal" I grinned "Now Reaver, we start with footwork"…

**A/N: I noticed during the fight scene with Reaver in the tunnels that he does actually use his sword, but, you know, not enough to be good with it. **


	3. Chapter 3

Reaver

She was an extraordinary woman, unlike any I've seen in over three hundred years. Talented, quick witted and of course beautiful, any man less luminary than me would have been quite charmed by her. Sighing I strolled towards the window to watch the dawn break over the sea. She was there in the courtyard, practising her aim again, still using that dreary old crossbow of hers. She refused to use guns in real combat because she claimed that ranged weapons were for enemies who didn't know you were there yet, and when you used a gun one was sure dead and the others were bloody sure you were there. I smiled at the old cutlass strapped to her back, she refused to sell or get rid of it, to let it serve as a memory to never let her guard down. When I asked where she would keep it (Sparrow didn't have a permanent home, just her caravan at the Gypsy camp and any pub who would let her stay the night) Sparrow just smiled and said 'never mind, you'll know soon enough'. Looking to the horizon I saw that the sun had yet to rise and looking down at Sparrow a feeling welled up in my gut, a feeling I'd never known. Like a mix between affection, lust and a burning desire to never leave her side. Looking back at Aria I studied her while she lay in slumber, perfect curves, perfect face and golden hair. I wrinkled my nose, how come all my women had blonde hair? It was getting tiresome and I found myself grinning at a particular thought. _'I definitely prefer brunettes'_ (Sparrow is brunette in this) glancing at the sky I quickly made my way downstairs, I had to take care of something.

Sparrow shot arrow after arrow into the targets on the wall, the cool pre-dawn morning cooling her sweating body._ 'Who knew shooting was so much hard work?'_ she thought as her arm began to cramp. Looking to the sky she saw that the sun was about to rise, and decided to turn in for an early breakfast when Reaver quietly slipped into the courtyard.

"Reaver" she turned to him with a nod.

"Sparrow…" he looked at a loss for words, which he never was.

"Reaver?" he looked up to her and decided to do this quick and get over it. _'Come on old chap, it's never been hard before now has it?'_

Stepping closer to Sparrow, Reaver put his arms around her and quickly lowered his face to hers. At first Sparrow was shocked by the tender kiss but soon returned it.

"What was that about Reaver?"

"I don't like blondes" he murmured before kissing her again. She was very addictive, much better than the golden haired slut in his room. As they parted again Sparrow leant into his chest and whispered

"I don't like blondes either" and with those words said, the sun rose.


End file.
